


A Shudderkin Tribute

by Mallory_Clayborne



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Chapter 2 contains:, Dom/sub, Excessive Lube, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Light daddy kink, M/M, No Condoms, Nudes, Quiet Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Spanking, This is one of those where tags will be added as I go!, anton being a hotelier, chapter 1 contains:, excessive mundane day-to-day workings of the midnight hotel, fantasy of being caught, like so much lube, long-ass chapter, male lingerie, stronger D/s than chapter one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mallory_Clayborne/pseuds/Mallory_Clayborne
Summary: So basically, because Shudderkin is the best thing on earth, I’m doing a kinktober-type things (who cares that it’s April) for them! Get ready for lots of smut, fluff, and AUs where nobody dies or betrays everyone, and the best gays ever run the best hotel on magical TripAdvisor.





	1. Quiet/secret sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1: Secret/quiet sex. Set during the war with Mevolent, about 1890ish. I spent 30 minutes reading about the history of lube and condoms for this because Shudder is a responsible man. As it turns out, Vaseline was invented in 1872. And in Ireland, 1889: the indecent advertisement act made it illegal to advertise condoms, but they could still be legally produced and sold. So that’s where we stand in terms of gay sex history, dudes and dudettes. Enjoy!

The Dead Men were a close unit: they knew each other better than brothers, the best of friends, and after several hundred years they’d even managed, by and large, to get past the squabbling stage. It stood to reason, then, of course, they’d experiment with each other romantically and sexually. Some relationships lasted much longer than others, but it had been accepted for a decade now that Anton and Larrikin were the golden pair. They were perfect together, adorably sweet, and provided the perfect support for each other in these troubling times. They were romantic and pure, and Anton even smiled, but as you’d expect, when the others were asleep with one man a mile out on watch, they indulged themselves in sin. 

And Shudder’s magic was made of sin and darkness, so he was really quite good at it.

Larrikin’s breathing stuttered every time Anton moved and his eyes were wide and watering. The two lay on the ground on their sides, Anton’s front pressed against Larrikin’s back, and the larger man enveloped his boy almost entirely. Anton had to admit, Larrikin was doing a better job at keeping quiet than he had anticipated: he knew this had been risky, for soldiers slept incredibly lightly, but the cheeky smile Larrikin had given him at dinner ruined the carefully-built resistance in Shudder’s mind and before he knew it, night had fallen and he had fingered Larrikin hard and fast to the background of the even breathing of their companions, whispers of filthy pet names occasionally falling past the lips of them both. Now, Anton was driving his cock as deep as he could into Larrikin over and over, lube seeping out of his hole and onto Anton’s thighs. Larrikin sighed out loud and Anton stilled for a second, listening for any sign it had alerted their friends, but Larrikin wriggled insistently and Anton couldn’t help himself from carrying on before he was sure. Before this annoying brat had become a Dead Man, Shudder has been formidable for both his skill in battle and his iron resistance; Larrikin’s spirit and love burned so hot it could melt that in a second, filling Anton with a warmth he’d never before experienced. 

He wouldn’t trade it for the world, but the thought of love only crossed his mind briefly as Larrikin’s body jerked slightly and he clenched around Anton’s dick. Anton felt scrabbling against his free wrist, the one resting on Larrikin’s hip, and he allowed the ginger man to put both of their free hands against his own dick, and Anton obliged, continuing to fuck his boyfriend as he began to jerk him off. Anton himself made a low noise as Larrikin began to tremble, squirming and pushing back against the larger man, breathing as hard as he did in battle. Anton didn’t care by now. This was amazing, pleasurable, and so what if someone did come over and see them? They’d see how beautiful Larrikin was. How much he gave himself to Anton. Anton stopped thrusting for a moment, although he kept his hand moving on Larrikin’s cock, and moved to put his lips against Larrikin’s ear.  
“Saracen is awake,” Anton lied, barely more than a whisper. Larrikin whipped his head to the side to look at Anton, almost bumping his head in his haste. His eyes were wide and brimming with tears, not from upset, but from the intenseness of the feelings.  
“He is? Did we wake him?”  
“Mm. If he comes over, he’ll see you like this.” Larrikin’s eyes widened even more for a second, and he kissed Anton quickly.  
“He’ll see you taking me so well. See how good you are for me. How well-behaved you’re being. Would you like that?” Larrikin nodded vigorously and bucked up against Anton’s hand, but when he settled back he made a choked noise. If he did that, he’d be fucking himself on Anton’s cock.

So Larrikin, obviously, did it again. He whimpered softly and now Anton’s eyes widened, keeping Larrikin’s gaze even as his eyes glazed over with pleasure.  
“Saracen is coming over,” Anton lied again. Larrikin moaned softly.  
“I want him to see me, Sir. Want him to see what you do to me.”  
Anton leant down again and kissed Larrikin, dominant but still sweet, and Larrikin kissed back like he’d die if he didn’t. He made a strangled noise into Anton’s mouth and dropped his head back to the ground, bucking faster and with a little less rhythm.  
“Sir, please-“  
“Shush, Larrikin.”  
“I’m-I’m so sorry, please, Sir, squeeze my dick harder, please Sir I’m going to come-“ Anton obliged, tightening his fingers around Larrikin and it was exactly what Larrikin wanted. He keened and fucked Anton’s hand erratically a few more times before he came, filling the condom he was wearing (Anton had reasoned that otherwise, there’d be a cold damp patch on the bedroll for the rest of the night, and Larrikin agreed wholeheartedly, because apparently his favourite emotion was being warm as he slept) and slumping against Anton. Anton heard the noise of Larrikin’s wail but didn’t care, didn’t register the noise as he felt Larrikin collapse softly into his arms and held him tightly as he fucked into him hard, chasing his own orgasm. Larrikin whimpered, squirming, and Anton relished in it, the cute little noises and sighs as Larrikin felt so overstimulated but so good. It was a few minutes later when Anton’s orgasm crashed over him, and he didn’t have the breath to tell Larrikin, so he just clutched his lover hard and drove himself deeply into Larrikin, who resumed his louder kind of whimper. Anton thrusted a few more times before falling still, loosening his death grip on Larrikin and turning it more into a hug. 

The pair lay panting for maybe thirty seconds before Anton eased himself out of Larrikin with an obscene noise, partially obscured by another moan from Larrikin. He cut it off as fast as he could, as Anton was careful not to let his lube-covered dick touch any of the fabric. He pulled off his own condom, ignoring the warm and sticky jelly that transferred to his fingers and nudged Larrikin, who came back from a world of his own for a second to pull off his own. The two spent rubbers were dropped into a scrap of newspaper near to their pushed-together bedrolls which Anton folded in on itself to throw away in the morning. As much as he wanted to just sleep there and then, they needed to put some more clothes back on, in case the temperature dropped more in the night, so he helped Larrikin pull his underwear back on and then his trousers, with Larrikin complaining softly the whole time of aching. Anton redressed himself and finally settled down, helping Larrikin flip himself over so his face was buried into the crook of Anton’s neck.  
“‘at was s’ g’d,” Larrikin whispered, very muffled. Anton smiled slightly and leaned back so he could look down at his boyfriend, who looked up at him and grinned with the light of the sun.  
“Just so you definitely know, we didn’t wake Saracen.”  
“I know. It was hot in the moment, but I would have died at breakfast. I was crying, Anton. You’re so good I was crying, really really good tears.”  
“It surprises me there are such thing as good tears.”  
“Well, you make me cry them. And if you ever leave me, then I’ll cry bad tears.”  
“I’d hate to do that.”  
“So don’t leave.”  
“I won’t,” Anton said, allowing Larrikin to snuggle back up against him and holding his warmth close, happier and more contented than he’d ever been before.


	2. Lingerie/sexting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good lord, this went on for a long time. Apologies this is so late, I’m taking my leavers’ exams! And also, I intended to write only a thousand words, but here are five thousand or whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is set in an AU where none of the Dead Men died (except, I suppose, Skulduggery, who is still a skeleton) and the Man With the Golden Eyes was someone else entirely. Nobody betrayed anyone. As such, Anton and Larrikin run the Midnight together as a happy gay couple LIKE WE ALL WANT THEM TO. Set somewhere around Resurrection. Don’t make me think about how this AU works with the events of Midnight. I spent too much time thinking about the weird and wonderful guests at the hotel. And, I kind of see Anton engaging with his guests (unless they say to be left alone) in a Basil-Fawlty-esque way, minus the disaster.

Anton was checking a guest in when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. The sun was setting in Valencia, and pinkish-orange light was spilling into the hotel, making the foyer look like a fantasy, making the claret carpets appear as rich as garnets, making the gold trim on the walls gleam. The last scheduled check-in of the day, 18:15, an Italian Elemental (Felicia Izzuro) and her partner (Redstone Juniper), in room 18 with the extra request of a basket of raw vegetables to be waiting for them. Anton saw to all this personally, of course. He knew almost every detail - in fact, not knowing Mx. Juniper’s discipline was nagging at his mind - that pertained to this hotel, and loathed to be distracted. So although he ignored the vibration the first time, the second, third, fourth, and the subsequent ones he stopped counting really started to get on his nerves. As Ms. Izzuro signed the paper on the desk, Anton inclined his head respectfully to the guests and took the filled-in paperwork from them. He stepped back into the office immediately behind the desk and pushed the door half-closed, opening a filing cabinet with one hand while irritatedly extracting his phone from his pocket with the other. 18 messages, all from a contact labelled ‘BBF:D’ (best boyfriend forever - Larrikin’s own creative direction). Anton sighed and quickly scrolled through the ones visible on his lock screen - the first dozen or so. Mostly variations of ‘aaaaaaantoooooooon’, he ignored them, until the last couple, which abruptly stopped using his name and instead just said ‘daddy :(‘. Anton felt heat threaten to rise in his cheeks but composed himself and didn’t let it: after all, he was about to re-emerge into the presence of guests. Larrikin would be the death of him, he was certain: cheeky, always pushing at Anton, but always knew exactly where to stop so it was endearing and not annoying. The final six messages displayed no text, so they were probably gifs or stickers. Putting his phone away so he could slip the paperwork where it belonged, Anton breathed as evenly as he could and pushed Larrikin to the edges of his mind. After all, it was still a working day. Re-emerging from the office, Anton took the key from cubbyhole 18 on the wall behind the desk and handed it to Ms. Izzuro, who thanked him and picked up her bags. Her partner followed suit and Anton directed them up a flight of stairs, third room on the left, and the pair thanked him again and disappeared deeper into the hotel. Anton picked up his pen and opened his ledger, filling in another line, and then he reset the desk to its neat and neutral state.

18:30, and dinner service would have begun, so Anton entered the dining room (with a slight huff as his phone vibrated again) to ensure everything was running smoothly, not that he doubted it. He observed his guests already there - some would come later, some wouldn’t come at all - and names and dates and special requests flickered through his mind. He walked near to one of the bigger tables, big enough for six but set for five, deciding to stop and ask the guests how they were. A family, mother-father-son-son-daughter, and they were on holiday. Maybe to most people, the Midnight was perhaps not what sprung to mind for a break, but when your youngest son had feral parasites the size of rattlesnakes that broke out of his skin whenever he was the slightest bit stressed, normal hotels were not really an option. Anton smiled at the family, who were waiting for their meal to arrive, and the mother motioned for him to sit with them. He acquiesced, and as he pulled out a chair, his phone buzzed again. He didn’t check it, of course not. That would be rude.  
“I hope you have been enjoying your stay, Mrs Avant. How has your son been?”  
“Very well, thank you. He finds being in so many countries and watching it all change very engaging, his friends have barely come out at all. Isn’t that right, Merlyn? Merlyn?” A small boy stopped pulling apart bread in the bread basket and looked up at Anton, who smiled as gently as he could back. The boy - Merlyn, he supposed - grinned back. His tongue poked out slightly. It was black. He went back to his destruction of the starch, which his little sister was helping with, and the older boy was telling them off, and being ignored. Something stirred in Anton’s chest, and of course, that was when his phone buzzed again. He ignored both the feeling and the message.  
“And you, Mr Jones? Everything is satisfactory?”  
“Of course, Shudder. You’ve never put a foot wrong with this place!” replied Jones with a laugh, a Welsh mage who had turned down an offer to work at the Irish sanctuary after standing against the Supreme Council when it was formed, saying he didn’t care for the officialness, just doing what he thought was right. Shudder could respect that. Anton accepted the praise gratefully and stayed to talk for a few more minutes, until a waiter came over and set food in front of the three children. Anton bade them farewell and wished them a good meal, stood from the table, and walked through the lightly-swinging door that led to the kitchen.

Three cooks working today, the head chef and two line cooks. One of them was an Elemental, so was the de facto sous chef for evening. They greeted Anton when he walked in, who nodded back, heading deeper into the kitchen towards the food storage. As usual, everything was where it should be and nothing was out of date; they were checked at least twice a day, though, by at least two different people, so he wasn’t surprised. His phone buzzed again. It was beginning to frustrate him: he’d told Larrikin to leave him alone if he was working while the ginger didn’t feel like it, and there was no apparent emergency that made today any different. Whilst he was working, he needed to appear professional: it’s how the Midnight functioned. He needed to appear professional, he thought as he extracted his phone from his pocket, because otherwise people wouldn’t trust the place, they wouldn’t obey the rules, he thought as he unlocked his phone with his thumbprint, customers wouldn’t spread the word, they wouldn’t return, and oh God, the photos were nudes. The other worded messages sent were variations of his name, Larrikin saying he was bored, Larrikin saying he was waiting. But the pictures, the ones that didn’t display on Anton’s lock screen, were photographs of Larrikin in all his lightly-clothed glory, and Anton felt himself begin to blush and he couldn’t stop it. Larrikin was dressed in a white lace chemise, clinging to him like a second skin. The first couple of pictures were relatively proper (as much as this kind of thing could be considered ‘proper’): he was knelt on the bed, legs together, arms outstretched in front of him to take the photo. However, they quickly became more explicit, and Anton - serious, austere, caliginous Shudder - felt heat rise into his cheeks and something knotting itself in his stomach. Larrikin had spread his legs and centred the camera on the panties he was wearing, white lace too, and from the look of the extra seam disappearing beneath him, they were backless, although Anton couldn’t be sure. The lace was stretched over Larrikin’s cock and balls obscenely, and Anton felt the familiar, slightly guilty thrill of arousal at something so beautifully taboo. He was blushing like a schoolboy now, and Larrikin would have teased him something rotten if he could see, although for now Anton was still safely hidden amongst the food stores and had all the space he wanted to compose himself. When he felt as bloodless as usual, he locked his phone and put it back in his pocket, feeling like it was visible through the fabric, even though he knew that was utter nonsense. Evening out his breathing, until he was sure nobody could tell he was half-hard and his heart was doing backflips, Anton re-emerged into the kitchen, praising the chef for the organisation of the pantry. He left along the edges of the dining room, more inclined to avoid further conversation with guests, and walked across the lobby as quickly as he reasoned didn’t look weird. He was a good 6’2”, so long steps probably didn’t look out of place, he reasoned with himself. Back in his office, he had precious little left to do, sign out the ledger, check the names and all the numbers were all consistent, a ten-minute job he valued at the end of every day. He usually took his time with it, checking everything twice, tallying everything across the previous few days, but here, today, with his phone burning a hole in his pocket, Anton scrawled his way through the book, skimming everything he could and just hoping he had good enough muscle memory that he wouldn’t mess it up. He didn’t, of course, and he did feel a small amount of pride swell, although he did suppose he had done this almost every day for the past century. It would be an insult if he were to get it wrong. His phone, his damned phone buzzed again and his hand tightened perceptibly on the pen he was holding. It was a rare sight for Anton Shudder to lose his composure, but Larrikin; blessèd, audacious, brass-necked Larrikin; Larrikin managed it better than anyone or anything else ever could. With a sigh, Anton removed his left cufflink so he could move his shirt sleeve, and took what was really his house key from the band on his arm. He’d had it specially made to fit him, after all: just because room 24 was a normal room once more, didn’t mean he was just going to get rid of this. Larrikin liked it anyway. Letting his office door close and click shut behind him, Anton crossed the lobby once more to a door marked ‘private’ and slipped the key into the lock.

They lived in the Midnight, and slowly Larrikin had convinced Anton to turn their few private rooms into more of a home than simply some additional hotel rooms. What that meant to Larrikin was stuff. Stuff everywhere. Cacti and succulents, exotic light fixtures that didn’t match the room, blown glass sculptures and pop vinyls. An eclectic mix, to be sure, but one that made Anton feel safe and warm and wanted. Larrikin would be in their bedroom, so Anton dropped his hotelier’s keys in the bowl by the door and sat on the repurposed orange crate so he could lean down and unlace his Oxfords.  
“Anton?” Larrikin called, sounding just a tiny bit nervous.  
“Yes, it’s me,” Anton called back, not letting anticipation seep into his voice.  
“I’m in the bedroom, okay?”  
“I’ll be through in a second.”  
Taking his blazer off and hanging it on the coat stand, Anton made sure his breathing was even and walked towards their shared bedroom. The door was fully clicked shut, so he twisted the handle and pushed, and he heard Larrikin gasp lightly as the two of them made eye contact. Larrikin was indeed dressed how he had been in the photos, and was still on his knees, sat on his heels, but his face and chest were flushed pink, strikingly apparent on the fair skin of the ginger. He scooted backwards slightly away from Anton, and took his bottom lip in his teeth for a second.  
“Good reason to text you during work?” Larrikin asked nervously.  
“An excellent reason,” replied Anton, stepping fully into the room and shutting the door behind him. Larrikin grinned, reassured. Anton came around and sat on the bed next to his boyfriend, who leant towards the dip in the bed and let his head lie on Anton’s shoulder.  
“Missed you today.”  
“Missed you too, darling. And you’ve been waiting all pretty for me, hmm?” Larrikin nuzzled embarrassedly into Anton’s neck.  
“But,” continued Anton, and Larrikin lifted his head, “you know you aren’t allowed to text me during work when you’ve stayed in bed unless it’s an absolute emergency. And while I did enjoy the pictures you sent me,” Anton lifted a hand to Larrikin’s cheek and petted him gently, “I wouldn’t say it constitutes an emergency. Would you?” Larrikin met Anton’s eyes and saw the look in them, the look he got when the taller man slipped into dominance, and lowered his gaze.  
“Not really, I suppose.”  
“And yet you did it anyway.”  
“Yessir.”  
“Do you expect to get away without punishment just because you’re beautiful?” Larrikin giggled slightly in response but quietened himself when he realised Anton did indeed want a worded reply.  
“Well… I was hoping you’d be nice to me, Sir.” Anton sighed, and turned his head to look at Larrikin.  
“Since you are so beautifully presented, I do partially take it as an apology. But you still broke the rules, and as such, you face the consequences. Hands and knees for me.” Larrikin’s gaze snapped up to meet Anton’s and his eyes widened. He looked almost scared. Anton wasn’t sure he liked it.  
“Larrikin, colour?”  
“Oh, green, green, I just… Sir, please don’t spank me.”  
“You make assumptions.”  
“But I’m right, that’s what you’re going to do to me, isn’t it? Well… please, don’t.”  
“Why not?” Larrikin bit his lip and shifted himself so he was facing away from Anton, and then after a moment’s hesitation, raised himself onto his hands and knees. 

Anton couldn’t help it. He groaned slightly, low and lustful. The lace underwear was indeed backless, and Larrikin’s skin was slightly shiny and sticky with plenty of excess lube that had seeped out from around the plug nestled inside of him. There was silence for a few seconds.  
“So, Sir, please don’t spank me. I don’t think I could cope like this…” Anton swallowed and moved fully onto the bed, kneeling behind Larrikin. He raised a hand and let it settle onto Larrikin’s right hip, and he felt Larrikin quiver underneath his grasp.  
“But if I did, colour?”  
“I mean, I suppose green, Sir, but begging you not to is really part of the sce-“ Larrikin cut himself off with a yelp as Anton moved quickly, bringing his hand down sharply (although not overly hard) onto Larrikin’s right ass cheek, careful to keep from clipping the plug with his strike.  
“How does that feel, boy?”  
“So much worse than I thought it would, Sir,” Larrikin replied, a breathy edge to his voice.  
“Really?”  
“It’s bloody amazing, Sir.” Anton smirked, and squeezed Larrikin where his hand rested.  
“Well then. Twenty should be enough to really get the message across that you don’t text me at work, shouldn’t it?” Larrikin whined in response, and Anton knew the noise well. He brought his hand down in the same place another four times, and Larrikin cried out softly with each strike. Anton switched to the other side and spanked Larrikin a further five times, so he’d taken ten in total. Larrikin’s breathing was quicker and Anton gently rested his hand against the blooming red on one side of Larrikin’s ass.  
“How are you, boy?”  
“G-good, Sir, I’m alright. I’m sorry for texting you while you were working, I’m sorry,” Larrikin replied breathily. Anton allowed himself to smile, knowing Larrikin wouldn’t actually see. He tended not to smile while Domming - Larrikin wanted the harsh Anton that was presented to everyone else.  
“Ah, you will be. I’ll inform you if I accept your apology.” Larrikin’s arms trembled slightly and Anton decided it was time to test a curiosity he had. Reaching between Larrikin’s spread legs, Anton squeezed Larrikin’s dick through the lace. Fully hard underneath the fabric, as Anton had hoped, and Larrikin keened at the contact. Letting go quickly, which made Larrikin whine, Anton raised his hand back to his shoulder and, with more gentleness and a little slower than he’d delivered the previous hits, struck the centre of Larrikin’s ass, his palm hitting the base of the plug. There was a split second of silence and then Larrikin yelped, dying away into a moan and then into nothing as he snapped his head around as far as he could to try and look at Anton. The pair made eye contact, and Anton kept his gaze steady, whereas Larrikin twitched softly and had to look away after a few seconds.  
“Eleven,” said Anton evenly. Larrikin sniffled. A minute passed, leaving Larrikin to suffer in suspense, and then Anton brought his hand down in the same place with no warning, causing Larrikin to yelp again and a tremor shook his whole body. He got himself back under control, panting now (a quick descent, Anton thought to himself, satisfied) and held himself as still as possible.  
“Mercy?” asked Anton. Larrikin hummed in confusion, which was cleared up rather quickly when Anton struck him again, much harder and faster, but away from the plug. The hum turned to a cry, but Larrikin had little time to think before Anton spanked him again twice in the same place in rapid and hard succession. Larrikin moaned when Anton stilled, and bent his elbows, lowering himself so his face was pressed sideways into the pillow and his ass was higher than before. Anton did consider briefly telling him to get back up, but decided it wasn’t worth it - though Larrikin hadn’t been given instruction to do this, today wasn’t an exercise in perfect behaviour, and it was adorable enough that Anton was happy to let it be. Repeating the three hard strikes onto the other side of Larrikin’s ass, Anton briefly clenched his fist to dissipate the slight stinging warmth he felt whilst Larrikin groaned into the pillow.  
“Two more, boy. Then will you have learnt your lesson?”  
“Yessir, won’t do it again Sir, love you,” Larrikin replied quickly, the words tripping over each other on his tongue. Subspace was an escape for Larrikin, and while Anton didn’t like to dwell, it did cross his mind, as always, that they all dealt with their pasts in different ways. Larrikin liked to lose control in a safe, warm and happy environment, to reassure himself everything was okay now. Anton would be damned if he couldn’t give Larrikin that.  
“You look so beautiful, Larrikin. All dressed up for me. Did you have fun choosing what to wear?”  
“Yessir, they were all pretty but I thought you’d like this one, you do?” Larrikin answered, a dreamy happiness edging into his voice. Anton allowed warmth to seep into his response.  
“I love it. It looks perfect on you, boy. Adorable. You’re so pretty.” Larrikin grinned in response, half-hidden by the pillow and his eyes shut, but he cried out in surprise and pain and his eyes sprang open when Anton suddenly raised his hand and brought it down sharply on the join of Larrikin’s ass and right thigh. Larrikin’s thighs were incredibly sensitive - bruised easily, Anton could leave marks that lasted for weeks with barely any effort, and while the backs of his thighs weren’t as bad as the insides, it still wasn’t easy for Larrikin to take it there. Whimpering, Larrikin screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the final blow, and it came hard onto the top of his left thigh, causing him to cry out again and moan loudly at the residual sting. When he opened his eyes again ten seconds later, a few tears seeped out. Anton rested his open palm against Larrikin’s ass and rubbed gently against the red marks, not particularly bad but enough to give Larrikin his fill for today.  
“Such a good boy, Larrikin, I love you. You took your punishment so well,” Anton praised. Larrikin smiled almost sleepily, but Anton knew it was the floating sensation of subspace - not that he knew (or cared to know) it himself, but just that Larrikin always talked about everything in great detail.  
“What would you like from me now, boy?”  
“Want you to decide, Sir. I’m yours.”  
“Lie on your back, then, boy.” Larrikin complied, falling onto his side and then shifting onto his back. Anton moved Larrikin’s legs until they were spread and bent at the knee with his feet flat on the bed.  
“Would you like me to undress, Larrikin?” asked Anton.  
“No Sir,” Larrikin replied, the perpetual blush deepening, “want you to keep your clothes on.” Anton gave a few syllables of good-natured laughter and reached up to his tie, pulling the Windsor free and draping the fabric over the end of the bed, before undoing his collar button. He also took his left cufflink from his breast pocket where he’d put it after getting his house key, and removed the right cufflink too before setting them both on the nightstand. Finally, he rolled up his shirtsleeves as he settled onto his knees between Larrikin’s parted legs. 

Larrikin looked up at Anton and smiled warmly, and Anton bent to kiss him, one arm by Larrikin’s shoulder holding himself up, and the other cupping Larrikin’s cheek, warm and flushed. Their kiss was sweet but deep, and Anton guided the way they moved together and finally broke away after thirty seconds, taking a proper breath. Larrikin did the same, although his breathing was more stilted. Keeping his head close to Larrikin’s and kissing his jaw gently, Anton freed his belt with one hand and pulled it through all the loops, dropping it off the side of the bed and hearing the buckle clank onto the floor. The noise made Larrikin stir slightly from what Anton could only assume was the cloud he was currently on. Lifting his head, he looked down at Larrikin, who was smiling faintly and had his eyes closed. Anton couldn’t help but smile back as he unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, finally pulling away to kneel up so he could push his trousers and boxers far enough down to free his own half-hard dick, which he took in hand and stroked a little bit, but his palm too dry to do it seriously. Anton was about to ask Larrikin where the bottle was when an idea flashed into his mind, and he nearly grinned. Anton reached a hand to the exposed section of plug outside of Larrikin and tugged gently, which made the ginger open his eyes and look up at Anton.  
“I’m going to take it out now, boy. Ready?” Larrikin hummed in response, and Anton nodded and pulled harder, easing the largest part of the plug out of Larrikin, who moaned. Slowly, the whole toy was pulled free, and Anton held it up for Larrikin to see, still glistening with excess lube. Larrikin kept his eyes on the toy and they widened when Anton brought his free hand up to it, looping a finger and thumb around the plug and sliding his digits along the whole length of it, all of the lube (almost burning hot from Larrikin’s body, Anton noted absently) collecting on Anton’s hand. Larrikin blushed again as Anton dropped the toy aside onto one of the nightstands and brought his hand, now sticky, down to his own dick and began to stroke, easier now with the lube. Larrikin watched, entranced, unable to pull his gaze away from Anton’s dick, which made Anton smirk. A minute or two later, Anton was completely erect, and his breathing was a little heavier, but Larrikin had started to whine intermittently. Anton cupped Larrikin’s chin with his clean hand and tilted his head back so they would make eye contact.  
“I’m going to fuck you now, boy. Are you wet enough?” Some people, Anton thought idly while Larrikin blushed furiously, would be extremely surprised to know that Anton Shudder said such things. He was always wonderfully civil and proper in public, such was the image he had cultivated for himself, but many people only thought of him as a veteran and never a soldier - veterans were the ones with awards, with gates named after them, with plenty of wisdom to share. Soldiers were the ones who crawled through the blood and the dirt, cussed out their friends for sport, were tortured and beaten and scarred, and that was the part of Anton that was nothing to do with his public image. It was a similar energy to that, his soldier mindset; that crept into him when he was a Dom, the ability to separate the situation and see it for what it was. Maybe he’d have found those words awkward in public.  
But he wasn’t in public.

Larrikin took thirty seconds to reply, and smiled coyly at Anton as he did.  
“I’ll be fine, Sir. You can just do it,” he said, ending with a breathy giggle. Anton smiled down at him. Larrikin was adorable. Seeing no reason to delay further, Anton put his palms against the backs of Larrikin’s thighs, just below (above, maybe? Anton wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to dwell) his knees, and pushed his legs so he was bent double on himself, his knees touching his shoulders. Larrikin had no trouble like this - he was a dot of a boy compared to Anton, and flexible as anything. His elbows were double-jointed, too. All the little things Anton loved about him. Larrikin was totally exposed like this but had been expecting it, because his cheeky smile crept back onto his face as Anton shuffled forwards until he was near flush against Larrikin, and guided the tip of his dick to press against Larrikin’s hole.  
“Ready?” Anton asked.  
“Yeah,” Larrikin replied, clasping the bedsheets at his sides. Anton nodded as he gently pushed his hips forward, keeping one hand on his dick to guide himself into Larrikin. Larrikin started moaning softly and Anton couldn’t deny the wet heat felt amazing. He was two-thirds of the way in when Larrikin raised a hand and put it flat on Anton’s chest, an instruction to wait, to let Larrikin adjust. He was tight around Anton, relaxing bit by bit, sighing slightly with each breath.  
“I forgive you, boy.”  
“Hmm?” Larrikin opened his eyes, which had fallen closed, and looked at Anton. There was a slight glassiness to his gaze.  
“You texted me at work. Which you aren’t allowed to to. But you apologised, and I forgive you. Are you going to do it again?”  
“I don’t know, Sir,” came the response, hints of a smirk in the words, “if it ends like this, maybe it isn’t so ba-“ Larrikin cut himself off with a yelp as Anton bucked his hips, not pushing in all the way but enough of a thrust that it made Larrikin shut up. It was difficult to get Larrikin to shut up, but Anton had generally found this method quite effective.  
“Jesus, Anton, what was that for?”  
“Cheeking me. Behave for once, would you?” Anton was smiling as he replied. Larrikin thought Anton was beautiful when he smiled, as much as he tried not to in public. Like the unawakened Golem of Prague. Larrikin let go of the bedsheet with one hand and put it on top of Anton’s, still holding the back of his thigh.  
“I’m ready,” was all he said, and Anton nodded, leaning down and kissing the back of Larrikin’s outstretched hand. Then Anton began to move, quite slowly at first and not pushing himself the whole way in, both to make sure Larrikin was comfortable and so he himself didn’t end this sooner than planned. Sometimes he selfishly cursed the fact he had such an infrequently-used magic, because it had left him the physically oldest Dead Man, not that he was unfit by any stretch of the imagination. And Larrikin was so incredibly beautiful. Larrikin was making soft noises with each of Anton’s movements, and after a minute of this gentle pace, Larrikin picked up a hand and put it on Anton’s shoulder, tugging him forward. Anton obliged and moved faster, a fraction deeper with each thrust, his hands tightening slightly on Larrikin’s thighs and beginning to pant slightly. Larrikin was moaning now, not constantly but enough, and the blissful look on his face made Anton want to do this forever. Anton himself couldn’t stay reserved any longer and moaned, lower than Larrikin, and Larrikin made a noise in response. He absolutely loved it when Anton got vocal.  
“Anton, God, more, ple- fuck, Anton,” Larrikin said, the words tumbling out of his mouth in quick succession as he tried to speak and breathe and moan at the same time. Anton obliged, his breathing heavy as he thrust harder into his lover, and he grunted with the effort and the sheer pleasure coursing through his veins. Larrikin was gone, moaning wantonly, having thrown his arms around Anton’s neck in an attempt to pull him closer. Anton’s whole length was inside of Larrikin now, and in a rush he felt the familiar sickly eagerness of the animalistic Gist in his chest. He focused on the pleasure and the beautiful boy beneath him and smiled, beating the bad feelings back and channelling the Gist’s overflowing energy into his movements. The anger retreated and was filled with warmth, spreading throughout him as Larrikin moaned and pressed his softly glowing hands against Anton’s chest. Anton’s thrusts became more unmeasured as the two men drew closer to orgasm, sweating and grunting and moaning, and Larrikin let out a short scream as Anton’s dick hit into his prostate. Anton himself moaned at the sound and adjusted his position as best he could while pressed so close to Larrikin so he could try and coax that scream out once again. Every three or four thrusts now, Larrikin would come close to losing his mind as his nerves were set alight, and he clenched and spasmed in pleasure around Anton’s cock. Anton wanted to tell Larrikin so many things, tell him how beautiful he was, how happy he made him, how his personality lit up any room, but there was another time with more breath to say all those things. Anton wanted to come, but knew it was easier if he made Larrikin orgasm first, because then he didn’t have to leave himself inside Larrikin while soft. Anton moved Larrikin’s hand from his chest to the back of his own thigh, so Anton could reach down with his now free hand and squeeze around Larrikin’s dick, still encased in lace. Larrikin gasped and then moaned at the contact, and Anton palmed his boyfriend, struggling to time his grasping with his hips, not that Larrikin seemed to care. Anton felt like he was on fire in the best way, pleasure seizing his mind and shaking his core, and a few tears leaked from the corners of Larrikin’s eyes as he whimpered in bliss, trying to beg for more but no words fully forming before they tumbled from his lips. The men became frantic, moving quickly and making the noises of animals, and Larrikin scratched at Anton’s chest as he keened with an absolute loss of control and came, the stickiness trapped inside the lace. Larrikin looked an absolute picture, flushed and panting and a satisfied smile beginning to show on his face, but Anton wasn’t done, and after a brief plateau to allow Larrikin to linger in his orgasm, Anton resumed the fucking - and it was fucking, as by this point, there was no pretence of lovemaking in this horny animalistic mess - and Larrikin wailed, actually wailed, and Anton relished the sound. He was dangerously close himself, and lost himself in the world of just the two of them, the obscene noise from the lube and his own panting and grunting and Larrikin’s moaning and whining, the smell of their sweat and their love thick in the air, and Anton blinked fast a few times just to make sure this was real, and it was and he was coming into Larrikin, cursing and groaning at the feeling, and Larrikin was whimpering beneath him, and Anton had to try extremely hard not to collapse. Using the last of his conscious strength, he eased himself backwards and slid out of Larrikin, who verbalised his complaints in incomplete syllables, and settled back onto his heels. His trousers and underwear were still somewhere by his knees, so he pulled them back on, vowing to deal with all the mess later, and shifted himself across on the bed so he could lie next to Larrikin. As soon as he was horizontal, Larrikin curled up to him, lifting his head so Anton could slide one arm underneath him and hold him tight. With his free arm, Anton groped around at his side until he found part of the duvet to grab onto and pulled it until it was covering them both, and then settled in for the usual soft post-coital cuddle that was as important for Larrikin’s mental state as it was for his physical one.

Twenty minutes later and Anton felt a haze begin to lift from him as his eyes fluttered open, a clearness in his head. The carriage clock on his bedside table read 9:14, and he knew, as much as he could happily go back to sleep this very second, that he needed to shake Larrikin into reality and get that boy a shower. And he was still in his suit, which wouldn’t do. This one wasn’t Bespoke, so it was probably past saving in terms of wrinkles (wearing Bespoke on a day-to-day basis at the hotel wasn’t something he wanted to do, as he didn’t want his Gist to destroy something so expensive if he needed it), but if he slept in it he’d wake with grooves in his hips that would give him grief all the next day. This all flowed gently through his mind as he nudged Larrikin awake, who mumbled and sucked up some drool that was threatening to spill onto Anton’s shoulder. Anton realised that was cuter in person than in description.  
“Need to get you clean. You must ache, and that underwear must itch like hell now it’s drying.” Larrikin shifted slightly so Anton could extract his arm from beneath him and winced slightly.  
“Right on both counts. Can this stuff,” Larrikin tugged at the chemise, “go in the washing machine?”  
“Probably not. I’ll hand-wash it tomorrow. Get up.” Larrikin sighed melodramatically but pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up with a very slight wobble. Anton stood up after him on his own side of the bed and walked around, following Larrikin into the en-suite and watching him peel off the lingerie, dropping it in a puddle on the floor and sitting himself down on the floor of the shower, holding a hand out to Anton. Anton sighed good-naturedly and took Larrikin’s shampoo, conditioner and body wash out of the cupboard, passing them over.  
“Are you going to get in with me?” Larrikin said, looking up at Anton hopefully.  
“No,” Anton said, speaking quickly to justify it as Larrikin began to pout, “because I need to change the sheets. The first thing you’ll want to do when you get out of the shower is lie down, and currently there is a large amount of lube on the linen.”  
“Such a hotelier!” Larrikin giggled as he reached above him and turned on the spray, huddling in the corner to avoid the water for the few seconds before it heated up. Anton smiled and left the bathroom, shutting the door and flicking the extractor fan on as he did. Anton did as he said as Larrikin showered, stripping the bed with the practiced efficiency of a hands-on hotelier and taking the sheets out to put in the washing basket, fetching clean ones and remaking the bed, leaving the duvet looking so smooth you could ice-skate on it. He sat down and replied to a message he’d received some time in the last hour while he waited for Larrikin, and a few minutes later he emerged, a bath sheet wrapped around his body and a smaller one on his head. His fair skin was flushed from the spray and the steam, and he smiled at Anton before practically jumping onto the bed and wrestling with the duvet until he was underneath it. Anton put his phone down and stood up, making for the bathroom for his own shower, but Larrikin caught him by the wrist and pulled him back. Anton raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help smiling.  
“Just… hang on a minute, okay?” Larrikin said before tugging at Anton’s wrist, trying to get him to lean down. Anton obliged and captured Larrikin’s lips in a kiss, gentle and sweet, Larrikin so soft all freshly clean. When Anton raised his head again, Larrikin grinned.  
“I love you, Anton.”  
“I love you too, Larrikin.”  
As Anton freed himself and got to the bathroom door, he looked back at Larrikin, happily pulling the pillows and duvets around him so he could bury himself in them. He probably wasn’t doing it consciously, but he was making little noises of satisfaction as he did so. Anton felt like his heart was going to burst, so he stepped into the steam-filled en-suite and pulled the door closed behind him.  
Somehow, it was cooler in here than the warmth blossoming inside of him.


End file.
